


Old Wounds

by Super_Wolf



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Crisis of Faith, Reunions, Rivalry, Suffering, old enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Super_Wolf/pseuds/Super_Wolf
Summary: A relic of the Old Republic encounters an old foe while on his pilgrimage. Two fearless warriors, now reduced to ghosts of their former selves must confront each other one last time. Will they find peace, or are some wounds too old to heal?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this short story as a gift for a good friend - [HollowK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowK/pseuds/HollowK) \- as part of a holiday gift exchange. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it as well!

**Old Wounds**

An old traveller walked through the rough sands of the Jundland Wastes. This man had once been a great fighter, a hero of the Old Republic. Now he was just another nameless hermit. Not a hero, no identity, just a watcher, an observer; almost everything that reminded him of his previous life had been stripped away, everything but the tattered cloak on his back and the sword at his side - the sword that he wasn’t even sure he had the right to wield anymore.

He’d seen the grandest republic in galactic history burn down, and the most sinister empire rise from its ashes. A hermit, left walking a different path, in the furthest reaches of the galaxy on this desolate desert world.

The path he walked had quickly become a regular pilgrimage, always on foot this time of year, as an act of penance for his failures. And it was because of this familiarity, as well as an indescribable intuition, that he was able to notice that, this year, something wasn’t quite right. 

The hermit halted, and stroked his salt and pepper beard as he scanned his surroundings. He’d stopped under the B’Thazoshe Bridge, a place considered sacred by the indigenous sand people, and marked the border of their ancient hunting territory. Nothing particularly  _ looked _ out of the ordinary, but he could feel the presence of someone else nearby. Someone familiar.

“It would be wise to step out now and save us both the trouble.” He hadn’t spoken in so long, he’d almost forgotten what his own voice sounded like. It was different. Less confident than he remembered. 

There was no reply. 

“If you’re going to kill me, I would have thought you of all people would want me to know who was pulling the trigger.” He felt a shift of emotion in his would-be assassin - a barely contained anger, but still no words. “Or at least you could grant me the gift of a noble end. A bounty hunter’s code?” 

A long pause followed, with nothing but the gentle winter - what little winter that Tatooine saw - breeze whistling underneath the bridge. 

Eventually this was followed by footsteps, light and slow, that emerged behind the hermit. 

“I’ve got an LL-30 trained on the back of your head. Move one muscle and I’ll drop you quicker than you can say ‘banther poodoo’” Hearing his voice again, assured the hermit of the man’s identity. It was more hoarse than he remembered, the cybernetics clearly failing over time, but it was, unmistakably, Cad Bane. “There is no code, Jedi, not now, and especially not  _ here _ .” 

“You’re mistaken, friend, there are no more Jedi.” He could have betrayed a slight smirk, but beyond the anger, he could feel the suffering in Cad Bane. A decay. 

“Then what am I looking at right now? You pick that lightsaber up off a corpse?”

“Perhaps I did. Or perhaps I killed a Jedi and took it from them.” He tucked the sword back further under his robes. He was getting sloppy. 

”Years gone, I would have told you that no one could kill a Jedi. The Great One knows I tried, plenty of times. But now I’m meeting people across the galaxy that deny you even existed in the first place.” 

“I’ve already told you, I am no-”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Think I don’t recognise your voice, even after all these years?”

The hermit sighed. Even twelve years into isolation, his past was destined to haunt him, every step of the way. No, that was the wrong way to look at it. This was a test - a test sent by the will of the Force for him to prove his faith. “I don’t think the Empire would be all too happy with you killing me here and stealing their glory, do you? I think the Emperor would much rather make a spectacle of it.” 

“You think I give one kriff about what those Imps want? I’m not out here collecting change, Jedi, this is personal.” Bane followed up with a rough cough. Enough to almost make the hermit feel sorry for him.

Accepting the situation, he turned around and looked Bane in the face. The old bounty hunter was clearly past his best days. He was thin, almost skeletal with ragged, blue skin hanging from the bones of his cheeks. The breathing tubes that, once upon a time, had allowed him to breathe in space or underwater were now missing, as was his trademark hat and duster coat.

The figure that stood in front of him now had once been the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy. But none of that grandeur was to be found here. 

They were both echoes of their former selves. 

“How did you find me?” The hermit asked. If he could diffuse this situation, both of them could come out of this without having to kill one another. 

“You, uh,” Bane coughed again, and a splatter of green blood fell down onto the sand. He wiped his mouth and continued. “You hang around enough spaceports, you pick up a few leads. You Jedi were never exactly subtle with your pretentious robes and your mind tricks. A guy over in Mos Eisley owed me a favour. Said he was told of a robed figure walking this path at this time.  _ Every _ year.” 

“Is that so?” He’d heard this story before, but never changed his path. 

“Yeah, then I heard whispers that this… this robed figure was a crazy man. No bounty hunter who went looking for him ever came back. Normally, that kind of thing would be like blood in water for those fresh-faced wannabe hunters. But you’ve got ‘em real freaked out.” Bane let out a laugh, and allowed a sly smile to spread across his withered lips. “They warned me not to come looking. Hell, back in the day, I might have even listened. Then, one day, one of them gave me a name. That’s how I knew it was you.”

The hermit’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you even curious as to why I’m here?” 

“Not remotely,” was the simple answer he received. 

A sigh of relief. “Good, then why don’t you get back on your speeder, or however you got out here, and go back to find a med-droid?” 

“There’s no saving me, Jedi. I came to this skadhole of a planet for two reasons, and two reasons only.” He pointed at the hermit, and back to himself. “Now throw your lightsaber over to me.” 

He did as he was told, unhooked his sword, gently placed it on the ground and slid it over. 

The bounty hunter reached down for it, keeping his blaster trained on the hermit’s head the entire time, and picked it up. He felt the weight of it in his hand, not just physically, but the weight of the years of warfare it had seen. “I wonder how many people have fallen at the blade of this lightsaber. More than you’re comfortable with, I’d bet.” He turned it around, feeling all of the scratches and dents with his frail fingers, and pressed the ignition switch. An ocean-blue blade burst out of the emitter, with a deep hum. “I haven’t seen one of these in a  _ long _ time. I’m sure one of the rookies back at the spaceport could retire on the credits this would get on the black market.” 

“You’re doing a lot of talking, Bane, but you’re not saying much at all.” Despite losing his weapon, the hermit still felt entirely at peace.

“You shut your mouth. Or have you forgotten who has the upper hand in the situation here?” Bane leaned in closer with his blaster.

“We were enemies in war, but that doesn’t have to remain that way at the end.” 

The twin suns were beginning to dip below the horizon, covering the valley in an approaching darkness.The scene was bathed in the glowing blue of the Jedi’s ignited lightsaber in the bounty hunter’s hand. 

The hermit licked his lips. He knew he needed to get back to his homestead before long to extract the last bits of water of the winter season. He couldn’t risk exposing himself and getting involved with the Hutts for his supply. But the situation here was delicate, and required patience. “Why don’t you come with me back to my home? Spend your final moments in peace.” 

“Not going to happen.”

“Then take the shot.” 

As the final sun fully went down, the bounty hunter squeezed on the trigger and did exactly that. A bright red flash of laser fire burst from the end, flying straight for the hermit’s head. He avoided it with a quick, but subtle move to the left. Two more successive shots were fired, also expertly dodged. 

Bane used what little energy he had left and one final shot was sent out, but the hermit didn’t dodge this one. Instead, he held out his hand, and redirected it into the ground. Then he reached out with his mind and pried the gun out of the bounty hunter’s weak grip, dismantling it in the air between them. 

The sight of the bounty hunter slumping to his knees in the sand brought the hermit no joy or sense of satisfaction. 

Bane switched the lightsaber off and tossed it back over. “Do it. Just do it. What’s one more life bound to that blasted thing?” 

“No.” The hermit picked up his weapon and, instead of igniting it, hooked it back onto his belt. “Or at least, not today.” He walked over and looped the bounty hunter’s arm around his shoulder. “Come, this is no place for a man to die.” 

“What’re you doing?” 

“I told you, we’re going back to my home. It’s only a few clicks south of here.” 

The bounty hunter had no more fight left in him; the hermit could feel the energy inside him growing weaker and weaker by the second. 

Together, they walked the rough trail through the Jundland Wastes back to the hermit’s homestead. Night was fully upon them, but the hermit knew exactly where to go without needing light to guide his way. His natural connection to the world around him allowed him to know the right path to take at all times.

By the time they arrived, the bounty hunter’s breath was laboured and he could no longer support himself standing. The hermit took him in and laid him down on his bed. His body was covered in so many scars and lesions, it was hard to tell which wound had put him into this state. Gently as possible, he put a canteen of water to the hunter’s lips and let him drink. 

“Why are you doing this?” Bane wheezed out, pushing the canteen away after a few gulps. 

The hermit didn’t even need to stop for thought. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because no one should die alone.” 

“Then what are you doing all the way out here, if not dying alone?” 

The words gave him pause, but he was never truly alone. He was more attuned to the living Force around him than most, and the generations of his order long fallen that had since become one with it. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” 

“Yeah yeah, I didn’t ask for a religious sermon. Let me die in peace.” 

“Do you at least have any last words?” 

“Yeah,” Cad Bane wheezed one last time, “I do. I came here to see you off personally. Quick blast to the head, that kind of thing. But knowing that you’re out here, decaying all on your own? That gives me more joy than you can imagine. So these are my final words: rot in hell, Kenobi - last of the Jedi, like your brothers in arms before you.” 

And he was gone. 

All malice and hatred disappeared. 

The hermit built a modest pyre for Bane and, following tradition, returned his body to the living Force. 

Before starting work on the final winter water harvest, he looked out into the night, at the triplet moons. He thought of the young boy he had watched celebrating Life Day with his aunt and uncle that morning. The young boy that served as a reminder - he would not be the last Jedi. And even though old wounds might not heal, this young boy - the last hope the galaxy had - might at least make them worth it. 


End file.
